After I found my high school sweetheart dead, I didn’t know what to do or where to go. Instead of going to a therapist, as I probably should have, I followed the last band we saw together in a series of disjointed, rambling road trips. I had no plan. I had no expectations. All I knew was that I had to keep moving. It was in that constant motion that I somehow learned to live again.
This book documents that year on the road, along with a series of essays written two years later—an attempt to reason with life after trauma, and what I learned from those I met and the experiences I had on the road.
Again, this is not a self-help book, a how-to manual, or the key to releasing you from your grief. It is simply my story, and what I learned along the way. That said, as always, I hope you are able to get something from this.
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